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One of the most clever songwriters and quick-witted live comedians in the business... with his high speed, low-drag act that constantly changes and evolves, Pat has such strong material and improv skills, no two shows are ever the same... not even close.
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Mama Precious & Husband Floyd

IMG_0254I was flying from Miami to Charleston on Delta in the middle seat and the plane was full except for the aisle seat next to me. I thought, “Once they close the hatch, I’ll move and have some leg room.” Just then I saw a crying behemoth of a woman, who looked like an older, larger version of the girl from ‘Precious’ and she was headed right for the precious aisle seat next to me.

As she squeezed her massive frame into the tiny space next to me and tried to click the seat belt, and the extender, half of her over 400 pounds oozed into my lap. She said, “I’m sorry honey, I’m a big woman and don’t usually fly, but I gotta get my Floyd back home to Charleston… gotta get my Floyd back home to Charleston!” Since I didn’t see any Floyd on the plane, I assumed it was a long story with some unhappy ending, so I just said, “That’s okay,” and went back to my People Magazine. Then she took out a Bible and moaned to anyone who would listen, “Oh, Floyd, you gonna meet your maker… you gonna meet your maker.” She repeated everything like an old blues singer. This went on for 10 minutes.

Finally, curiosity got the best of me, and I asked her where Floyd was, and she sobbed, “He’s below us in cargo, in a casket I could barely afford… in a casket I could barely afford.” (She’s loud and everyone is staring at us.) Now that I’ve joined the conversation about her dead husband, Floyd, she wants me to read out loud from ‘The Good Book’ because Mama Precious can’t see that well. Not only am I stuck in the middle seat, but now I’m the flight’s Deacon, for Christ’s sake! I took her bible and quietly started reading to her, low enough so I didn’t bother the other passengers. I began in my best whisper voice, “And the Lord said…” She interrupted me and said, “Sugar, read it loud pleeeeze, my ears ain’t none too good at my age.” For the remainder of the flight I read The Bible, LOUD AS HELL, like a crazy guy on a New York street corner, much to the disdain of the other passengers.

When we landed, I helped my new friend to baggage claim where her family greeted us, crying and repeating everything. I did not wait for the casket, but knowing Delta Airlines, Floyd probably ended up in Atlanta.

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